


So Hot You're Hurting my Feelings

by epsilonfive



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Slow Burn, bc i Know myself, more characters to come probably as the story goes on, not rating it yet cause i'm not sure but will prob be explicit later, sort of. i'm gonna Try
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21647737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsilonfive/pseuds/epsilonfive
Summary: AU where Kitt is human and a member of FLAG and he meets and recruits Michael, who introduces himself by drunkenly hitting on Kitt at a bar. Intended to be multi chapter and full of hilarity, slow burn, friends to lovers and later hurt/comfort and angst.
Relationships: KITT/Michael Knight (1982)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> omg this idea came to me at work, idk how but it did and i couldn't stop thinking about it all day, so i had to write it. i never do multi chapter stories because i find it really difficult, but this time i'm gonna try!! essentially everything is the same except kitt is human and the way he and michael meet is different, but there'll be imprinting. oh yes *john kramer voice* there will be imprinting.

Kitt doesn’t usually frequent bars. He thinks alcohol impairs the system far too much, even if it’s usually for a short period of time. But today, he allows himself a drink or two. The first being a Moscow Mule. He likes the copper mug, and the simplicity of it. 

He takes his time with it, sipping it every few minutes or so, and savouring the taste and warmth that heads down his throat into his belly. Thankfully the bar isn’t as raucous as he had been expecting, although there is a man near the jukebox singing along too loudly, albeit on key, to the song; “Livin’ on a Prayer”, the likes of which is causing his voice to break slightly on the strong part of the chorus.

Kitt wrinkles his nose slightly, but ignores it, focusing on the drink and his own thoughts. It isn’t as though he’s been having tough times at work, in fact quite the opposite, he’s the best agent FLAG has ever had, or ever will have, in his opinion. It’s just that... He feels as though there’s a sort of gap next to him lately when he goes on missions, like it should be filled by someone else.

But that’s silly, of course, he thinks as he takes another sip of his drink and pointedly pays no attention to the man who’s now trying to get others to join in the song unsuccessfully. He doesn’t need anyone else. Perhaps it’s his lack of a relationship, even friend wise. He considers Devon and Bonnie his family, and they’re very dear to him, but sometimes it feels as though he doesn’t have anyone. He knows they’d come to his aid in a second if he needed it, but regardless... 

Eventually the man stops singing and Kitt breathes a sigh of relief. His reprieve lasts only a short while however, when there’s the sound of drunken stumbling next to him, and he narrows his eyes at his drink, forcing himself to remain civil and professional.

“Heyyyy. This joint... ‘s way too run down for a... pretty thing like you,” Comes a drunken drawl from besides Kitt, and Kitt doesn’t respond, praying it’s someone else being talked to. “Awwww... ppsh. Not talkin’, eh?”

Kitt gives up and sighs, turning to the man next to him who is unfortunately a lot more attractive than Kitt had pictured, as well as a lot bigger.

“I assume you are talking to me?”

“Don’t sheee... ‘nyone as pretty as you around, do... do you?”

Kitt’s very vain side rears its head and he’s tempted to agree and leave, but he doesn’t. Professional. Civil.

“Do you always flirt with a random person you find appealing, or is this a special occasion?”

The man smirks, and Kitt has to fight the urge to swallow. He shrugs then, and takes another swig of the beer he’s holding, only to find that it’s empty. He places it on the bar table and unfortunately that means he has the ability to focus on Kitt more. Not that Kitt doesn’t like the attention. He shouldn’t, he’s being hit on by a drunken stranger. But he’s a sucker for being the centre of focus for someone.

“Hey pal, if you’re not into ... into it, I can leave,”

“How chivalrous,” Kitt says drily, but he does appreciate the offer to be left alone. “Very well then, I’ll bite. I don’t usually frequent bars, especially one like this establishment, but tonight I felt like a treat, if you will. Soothe myself with a little alcoholic beverage. And you are here to become inebriated, I can only assume,”

The man blinks at Kitt with a blank expression for a moment, and then smiles again.

“You’re cute,”

Kitt can feel his face heating up at that, a most irritating and inconvenient response. He can only hope the man is too drunk to notice.

“Yes, well,” Kitt says, and he takes the final sip of his drink. “I’m sure you would much rather be making off with some female than me, so--”

“No! Well, I like ‘em,” Is the response, and Kitt rolls his eyes. “But guys are nice too. I... I get around,”

“Oh yes,” Kitt says, unable to stop the hint of amusement in his voice. “I am quite sure you do,”

The man sits up straighter, seemingly trying to force himself to appear more stable, before extending his hand.

“I’m Michael Long,”

Kitt relents and reaches out to take it.

“Kitt,” he responds in kind, and then he finds his hand is being turned and brought to Michael’s lips and a kiss is pressed upon it, as though it’s a gentleman meeting a lady. “Quite the gentleman, aren’t we?”

Kitt doesn’t recoil, simply takes his hand back, somehow not minding the contact. Michael’s eyes are blue and bright, and there’s something in them, a gentleness, that Kitt could spot a mile off, and so it calms everyone in his presence, creating a trustworthy exterior. 

“Mmh. Think I’m... gonna hurl,”

“Please do it somewhere other than here, I would like to have one more drink if you do not mind,”

“Right...” 

And then a sadness seems to fall over Michael, his cheerful face falling slightly as he makes to leave and immediately almost collapses to the ground out of the seat.

“My goodness,” Kitt says exasperatedly, helping Michael back up and into his seat. “If you are going to create an obstruction on the floor, I suppose you can stay here,”

“Th... thanks, Kitty,”

“That’s _Kitt_ ,” Kitt presses firmly, twisting his mouth at the sudden nickname. “And _only_ Kitt. I will take no substitutes for my name, do you understand?”

“Yeah... yeah. What ‘bout... last name?”

“It is just Kitt. We will leave it at that,” Kitt says before flagging down the barkeep and ordering the most expensive wine on the menu.

“Woah!” Michael exclaims. “You’re loaded, aren’t... aren’t ya, buddy?”

“You could say that,” Kitt says, mouth twisting into a sideways smile, and Michael does a small sort of jig.

“You sm... smiled! Good... thought I’d lost m’ touch there...”

Kitt rolls his eyes again, an instance he’s sure will happen more and more over time-- Wait. Scratch that. No time. This was a friendly chat at the bar, nothing more. This man would be forgotten soon enough.

Except he wouldn’t.

Kitt was a bad liar, so bad he couldn’t even lie to himself.

“Do not get overconfident,” Kitt says, trying to seem statuesque but failing. Michael laughs again, and Kitt privately drinks in the sound along with the sip of wine he takes as the glass arrives, and tries to tell himself that the warmth is from the alcohol, and nothing else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitt gets to know Michael and his situation better, and strangely finds a kindred spirit in a man so unlike himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapters things it turning out to be fun!!! there's an end that feels right as i do them and it's easier than when i write a one shot. so wahey! next chapter.

A few more moments pass in quiet, Kitt drinking his wine a little faster than he normally would and Michael apparently trying to sober up.

Eventually, the silence is broken between them.

“’M... not in a good way,” Michael begins, and Kitt looks to him mid sip.

“Oh?” Kitt responds, feeling a slight awkwardness come over him. He wasn’t very good at the whole... emotions thing. It’s not as though he didn’t feel them, he was just so used to keeping them down, keeping them in check. Michael looks like the type who absolutely did not do that.

“I mean... I got my job which I love, but... ‘s ‘bout it,”

“I can understand that,” Kitt says, placing his glass on the surface and looking into the slightly shaking water within it. 

“And I wanna do... more, you know? I wanna save more people, I wanna sh... stop more crime, I wanna... do amazzzzing--” At this point he extended his arms wide to animate his point. “--things. Wanna. Wanna help...”

Kitt turns his gaze to him intently, cinnamon eyes flashing almost red as the light from someone’s watch catches his glass and bounces in his eyes. The words this man was saying were... They sounded just like a FLAG member would sound.

In fact, the sentiment reminds Kitt of him, himself. Of course, he was born into FLAG, practically made for it, as he was told so many times, but he had the passion behind it. If he didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t. Simple. 

But he did. He had a love of justice and doing the right thing, and it was what allowed him to sleep well at night. 

“I do know,” He says softly, and Michael appears to be sobering up a little as he nibbles on some loose nuts in a bowl at the bar. “Water,” Kitt adds as the barkeep passes by, and he returns almost immediately with a glass of it. “Drink.” 

He pushes the glass towards Michael, who groans.

“I really am... gonna hurl,”

“No you will not,” Kitt says firmly, pushing it closer, and Michael gives in, taking a swig. He seems to perk up slightly a little at that.

“There was a girl,” Michael says, and he drinks some more water down, his eyes becoming a little clearer. “Loved her. Still love her. Stevie. Her name,”

“I see,”

“She and I were... I dunno. I was th... thinking of askin’ her to marry me,”

“Oh,” Kitt says, unsure exactly what else he could say, considering he’d never even really considered marriage to be an option for him. 

“But... I dunno. She told me... Sh... work. Too much work. Took me... takes me, over. Once I start something, I gotta finish it,” Michael picks up the water glass and smacks it slightly to the bar, making Kitt jump. “Sorry,”

“No I... I understand. You seem like the rash, stubborn type,”

Michael turns to Kitt with an amused expression.

“Well you seem the stuffy, workaholic type,” Kitt bristles, but Michael hadn’t finished. “And you’re adorable doing it,”

“Oh you are such a charmer, aren’t you?” Kitt says with a slight chuckle. “You don’t look so bad yourself,”

Michael raises his eyebrows, and Kitt mentally kicks himself. It just slipped out!

“Thanks, Kitty--” Kitt shoots him a warning expression. “Kitt, Kitt! Sorry,”

Kitt snorts then turns back to his glass of wine, finishing it in one large swig.

“Well. It has been a pleasure, Michael. But I should return home. I, like you, I suspect, have work early, and need to wake up tomorrow morning at a reasonable time. I would suggest you do the same,”

Michael sighs and stands, and thankfully only sways a little.

“Yeah... yeah. Not much to go home to, though,”

Kitt gives him a sympathetic look.

“Come. I can give you a ride home,”

Michael nods and the pair walk out quietly, Kitt putting up his hands every so often in case he needs to steady Michael, who still teeters a little on his feet. This is highly unusual of Kitt, and he’s confused as to why he’s doing it. This man was a stranger, despite the fact they knew each other’s names, and Kitt’s probably breaking some kind of FLAG rule even letting Michael into his car. But for some reason, he doesn’t stop himself, and they end up outside.

Michael whistles as Kitt leads them to his car. A black Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, in pristine condition. 

“What a beaut!” Michael says happily as he staggers slightly towards the car and practically drapes himself over it. “What kinda swanky job you got, anyways?”

“I would thank you not to accost my car,” Kitt says, striding over and separating Michael and the car, who whines slightly.

“But she’s so pretty!”

“So am I, but you know to keep your hands to yourself, don’t you?”

Michael gets the hint and allows himself to be pulled off. 

The atmosphere changes and Kitt’s smile becomes a scowl. He senses something is... off. He feels eyes on him (other than Michael’s own which check Kitt out every so often and Michael thinks he’s being subtle but he’s not) and it awakens his instincts.

“Michael,” He says lowly. “ _Run._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Kitt makes mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thank you to WarlockWriter for helping me out on the action scene, which was basically this whole chapter xD enjoy!

Michael sways slightly.

“Run!” Kitt repeats, louder this time as he pushes Michael in the direction of a gap he could make his way through. 

Michael gets the message, but is unfortunately too late as three men in suits emerge from behind cars and bushes. He backs up slowly until he bumps against Kitt, and they stand back to back as around twelve men surround them.

“Friends of yours?” Michael asks, hopefully.

Kitt surveys the scene before them, analysing possible escape routes and calculating which blows to deliver to each man.

“Definitely not,” He says, the corner of his mouth closest to Michael open slightly.

“You. Suit,” One of the men says, and Kitt looks around animatedly. 

“All of you are in suits, if you don’t mind me saying,” Kitt says matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised innocently. 

“Black suit. Pretty boy,”

“Oh, then that is me,” Kitt responds, and Michael sniggers. “What do you require of me?”

“You and whoever you work for cut off our supply and got our boss thrown into the slammer,”

“Ahh, you are the heroin smugglers, correct? From about a week ago? I must say, you quite deserved what you got,”

The expression on the man’s face changes from shock to rage as he surveys Kitt. Michael elbows Kitt gently to tell him to stop, that there’s a time and a place for arrogance, and so much as Michael enjoys to show off too, he knows when an instance is too dangerous.

“You’re coming with us,”

“I think not,” And Michael feels Kitt crouch ever so slightly next to him, like a wild animal ready to strike. “You will have to catch me, first,”

The man jerks his head in various directions as he gives his order.

“Get the pretty boy. Kill the extra,” 

Michael barely has time to get ready to defend himself when he feels his arm grabbed and his whole body is lurched to the side to crouch behind Kitt’s car. He’s about to protest when he hears the sound of guns cocking.

“Kitt,” His voice trembles slightly. It’s not as though he hasn’t dealt with armed criminals before, but he’s never had to face so many, and in his opinion he’s pretty sure they’re both dead.

“Stay here,” Kitt murmurs, hackles raised as he peers around the car. He seems to be counting their foes. “Oh my. Twelve of them and one of me. Oh, what is a poor boy to do?” 

Michael blinks at Kitt, unsure how to respond. How could one man be so confident, even staring death in the face? 

Kitt twitches as if to move from behind cover, and Michael grabs his arm. Kitt looks back to Michael, eyes once again flashing almost red and Michael lets go.

“Kitt,” He says desperately, blue eyes turned stormy by their predicament. “What... what are you doing?”

“Trust me, Michael,” Kitt says, and he almost looks like an angel as a street light forms a halo around his head with its glow. “Stay low, and stay hidden. I will get us out of this. I have been in worse situations,” 

He gives Michael an abashed half grin as the latter looks at him in horror.

“All.... alright, but if you need me...”

“I shall call on you immediately, officer,” Kitt says, and Michael’s heart takes an extra beat. He’s about to ask how the hell Kitt knew, but even the few precious seconds they’ve taken to speak have cut too deeply into their time. Michael yelps as a man vaults over the hood of the Trans Am, but Kitt is ready for him, disabling him in a flurry of swipes and lunges. 

Kitt looks almost inhuman as he dispatches the man, speed well off the charts of any training Michael had ever had at the police academy. He looks beautiful, and deadly. Unfortunately, that kind of combination seems to be hitting Michael’s weak spots.

No time to be distracted by that now, he chides himself, fighting as best he can to stave off the sleepiness that comes with drunkenness. He outright refuses himself to pass out, forcing his heavy eyelids to stay open. To be a liability to Kitt is the last thing he wants.

Another foe enters and Michael can feel him as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Instinct kicking in, he turns and squarely punches the guy in the jaw, overjoyed that he hasn’t missed. While the enemy blanches under the blow, Michael delivers a ram with his shoulder to the chest, and the former slumps to the ground, trying to breathe.

“Hitting the solar plexus even when inebriated. Impressive,” Kitt says, and he sounds genuinely so as another man descends upon them. Kitt does away with him, even faster than the last. “Not bad for an officer of the law,”

Michael is about to respond when two men approach them, one of them having time to wield his gun. Kitt dodges the shot easily, a strand of hair falling from his perfectly slicked back hair. The bullet hits the car and Michael is prepared to lament for it, but the metal bounces off as though the Trans Am is made of rubber. More and more questions blow up in Michael’s mind, but he’s going to have to answer them later, as the other man is pointing the gun at his middle.

He puts his hands up, trying to surrender, but a streak of black and red of a thin rose knot tie passes in front of him, slicing the gun out of the enemy’s hand and knocking him unconscious with a few blows.

Kitt looks to Michael who feels incredibly guilty as there’s anger in those usually calm cinnamon eyes.

“Never surrender, Michael? What were you thinking?! You were almost killed!”

Michael knows that tone. Knows that Kitt isn’t truly angry at him, just worried. Though that doesn’t stop Kitt from being any less scary.

“I’m not a p... pro with firearms, okay? I don’t like ... don’t like ‘em! Don’t even like to... to use ‘em,”

Kitt rolls his eyes and Michael feels a tic go off in his temple. He opens his mouth to argue but a gunshot narrowly misses his hand and he leaps back, the car taking the bullet again, leaving no trace of even a dent left behind.

“We can discuss the matter of firearms later, Michael!” Kitt says quickly, speeding to next spot of cover which happens to be a large garbage bin. “For now, stay down. If you are confronted, you must fight. Understand?”

Michael nods, and Kitt looks slightly relieved as he dives out of cover and Michael can hear the crunch of breaking bones and the heavy thumps of hits in quick succession. A few shots fire and he peers out worriedly, but Kitt unscathed, save for a bruise on his jaw and a hole in his suit arm.

This man was incredible. It was hard to believe he was human. Michael had never seen somebody move like that. Perhaps it was years of training, perhaps his parents had been in... whoever Kitt worked for, as the thugs had mentioned, and so it was in his blood. Whatever the reason, Kitt was almost machine like in his accuracy and speed.

Michael feels a little like dead weight, so with his heart thumping in his ears, he begins to creep up on a guy whose back is turned, his attention clearly on Kitt. Michael trips on his way over there, unsteady from the drink. The guy’s head turns, but not before Michael can just about manage to leap onto his back and put him into a choke hold. In his surprise he fires a few rounds of his gun, but the bullets bounce uselessly off of the ground.

After some few seconds, he loses consciousness and drops to the ground. Michael, still low, untangles himself and cautiously makes his way to Kitt, who is now standing in the middle of the parking lot, fixing his suit as though he’s just had a minor inconvenience with the wind.

“You’re... incredible,” Michael breathes, when he sees the bodies of the gang surrounding them, all knocked out, he notes. “To subdue this many criminals with guns and not even kill any of them?”

“Yes, it was quite amazing wasn’t it?” Kitt says calmly, smoothing his hair back into place. “I do not kill. I _will not_ kill. I only use a firearm if absolutely necessary and I always aim for non-fatal areas. Just because I do not like to use them, does not mean I cannot face them. You can do the same,”

Michael snorts.

“You sound like my old instructor,”

“Perhaps you could do with some lessons,”

“And I guess you could teach me?” Michael raises his eyebrows, although it’s a challenge.

“I could, but I do not have time, I’m afraid. We must part ways here. It is... dangerous to be around me right now. I doubt that was the last of them,”

“Will you... you be alright?” Michael says with concern in his tone, and he lightly touches Kitt’s arm. He can feel Kitt flinch just a fraction, but he stays his hand and doesn’t pull away.

“You saw me out there, Michael. I will be fine,” He pats Michael’s hand reassuringly and is seemingly just about to move away when a voice rings out around them and each man turns their head to try to find the source of it.

“Touching. Real touching, looks like you have a soft spot, don’t ya Kitt?” 

Michael feels cold dread in his stomach. They hadn’t gotten rid of everyone. This last person was a female, though, and seemed to be coming from behind some bushes to their left.

“Who’s there?” Kitt demands. “Show yourself!”

A pretty blonde emerges, gun pointed directly at Kitt’s heart. Kitt’s expression tells Michael that the two know each other. 

“Hello, spare,” She says coldly, looking to Michael. “My. Kitt has picked up a handsome one this time, hm? I’d say he’s the best so far, wouldn’t you Kitt?”

Kitt glares at her.

“I was about to take him home when your gang of brutes ambushed us. Not with me,” He adds quickly, and Michael knows he’d be teasing the hell out of Kitt if the situation weren’t as it is. “So I took care of them,”

“I can see that,” She says as she looks around at all the unconscious thugs on the ground. “How disappointing,”

“Well? What is it? If you are going to shoot me, better make it fast and aim well, you know how good I am,”

“I do,” She concedes. “But you know I’m also a hell of a shot,”

“That you are, Tanya,” Kitt says cautiously, revealing her name. “So it would seem we are at a stalemate,”

“Yeah, yeah. Seems like your man can put up a fight too. He a new member?”

“No,” Kitt begins, and then, almost hesitantly. “Not yet.”

Kitt turns his head to look at Michael briefly, and Michael can see everything as though it’s in slow motion, can see what’s about to happen, can see that this Tanya is taking advantage of every second she can, because he lunges forward to push Kitt out of the way.

“Look out!” He shouts, and then there’s a ringing in his ears, an excruciating pain in his forehead like the worst migraine in the world and something hot streaming down his face. He crumples to the ground as he hears Kitt shouting something in the distance along with the hasty click of heels as Tanya makes her escape. A few moments later and Kitt is beside him, presumably on his knees, and Michael is losing consciousness fast.

It seems like it’s the end, and Michael reflects on things in his life, things he wishes he could've changed. Warm, cinnamon eyes are above him and the blurred face is scrunched together in horror. Michael tries to speak, but the words won’t come. The last thing he hears before darkness envelops him is something about ‘needing flag assistance immediately’, whatever that means, and the last thing he sees is Kitt’s face above him. 

The last thing he _feels_ is Kitt’s hand holding his own.


End file.
